


hot ashes

by Lexigent



Category: Hamlet - Shakespeare, SHAKESPEARE William - Works
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Emotional Manipulation, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-10
Updated: 2015-03-10
Packaged: 2018-03-17 06:49:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3519467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lexigent/pseuds/Lexigent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It shocks him to find his friend this much changed. He helps Hamlet change for the duel, holds his clothes, goes through the motions. By the time Hamlet is in fencing gear, he's not Horatio's friend any more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	hot ashes

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on the Royal Exchange's production, where Horatio didn't hold Hamlet in his final moments but just sort of stood to one side. I had to come up with a way to explain that, and to make him suffer for it.

Horatio's playing the guitar in the kitchen around noon on a Saturday when Hamlet finally emerges from his bedroom. Horatio glances up at him briefly, then goes back to his tune.

Part of him knows this can't last. Hamlet is of the royal blood, has been granted freedom to sow his wild oats for three years at university. His family heritage will always come before any friendship. The other part of him, the part that's used to having to fight for whatever scrap worth having of what other, more privileged, people have left over, is a different story. That part takes what he can get.  
  
Hamlet sits down and listens to him play. For a short while, Horatio is the centre of Hamlet's attention. He loves few things better than this. Hamlet lights a cigarette and Horatio gives him a sharp look.  
  
"Those things'll kill you."  
  
Hamlet raises his chin, blows the smoke up high to the ceiling, and smiles by way of an answer. Horatio has nothing to say to that, so he plays on.  
  
Hamlet decides when the moment ends, as ever. Eventually, there's some girl to romance, or some party to go to that Horatio can't afford, and so they part with a clasp of hands, to reunite at some place and time of Hamlet's choosing. Hamlet's skin is warm against Horatio's. _One day, you'll burn me_ , Horatio thinks with a measure of unease as Hamlet makes his way out the front door and leaves Horatio alone with his songs.  
  
\---  
  
"My man, they did make love to this employment. They are not near my conscience."  
  
There's a cold hard note in Hamlet's voice that Horatio has never heard before. He looks at Hamlet, searches his eyes. There's fire there, but no warmth.  
  
It shocks him to find his friend this much changed. He helps Hamlet change for the duel, holds his clothes, goes through the motions. By the time Hamlet is in fencing gear, he's not Horatio's friend any more.  
  
Horatio always thought Hamlet would be the one to make that decision for him, and that's probably what shocks him most of all.  
  
\---  
  
Watching Hamlet die is not the hard part. Watching him plead with a friend who's no longer there, who's just wearing the shape of Horatio - that's the hard part. There's a mad moment where Horatio picks up the poisoned cup, because isn't that what a friend would do?  
  
  
"Here's yet some liquor left," he says and smiles at Hamlet over the rim, like it's just a toast. He raises it to his lips, close enough that he can smell the poison. The wine stings his lips.  
  
Hamlet is too weak to get up and take the cup out of Horatio's hand but the wounded yell he throws at him might as well have been a slap of the hand. Horatio puts the cup down, shaken; knocks it over so Hamlet can see the wine run into the tablecloth.  
  
"Absent thee from felicity a while and draw thy breath in pain to tell my story," Hamlet manages after that and Horatio can but nod.  
  
And then, it's over, and Hamlet is alone on the cold stone floor. Horatio stays in his spot for what feels like a lifetime, suspended between wanting to touch him and knowing he can't, he shouldn't, it's too late now, anyway.  
  
A noise from somewhere breaks the spell and Horatio moves forward, hesitates one final time, and leaves, lets the guards deal with everything else.  
  
\---  
  
There's going to be a state funeral, but they leave Hamlet's body in the chapel at the mansion until they can sort all that out, on the grounds that any friends that might want to pay their respects in a more private way can do so this way.  
  
Horatio can't travel back to Wittenberg and so he thinks he might as well sit there and see if anyone comes.  
  
He might have missed them, had he decided otherwise. He does a double take when they come in because surely it's impossible.  
  
True, Rosencrantz has two new piercings and Guildenstern is sporting a black eye, but it's definitely them. They put down their flowers and stand in silence for a while before they leave again. Horatio tries to get up but his legs feel like they'll give out under him, so he stays in his seat for a while longer.  
  
\---  
  
He keeps the promise in the days afterwards. If nothing else, writing it all down, making something beautiful out of all of this, keeps him going day by day. He smokes too much, drinks too much of both coffee and wine, but the music always calls him in the end. Another song to be written, another story to be told. Or more, another way to tell the same story. It's all rings within rings of fire.  
  
He closes his eyes and the scene replays before his eyes. Was there something he should have seen in Hamlet's face, when he told him of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern's death warrant? Was there a way to spot that lie?  
  
There's nothing for it - he couldn't, and he didn't, and Hamlet succeeded in getting himself killed and making Horatio think that was probably the better thing to happen.  
  
He records song after song. Once it's all done, he takes his guitar to the graveyard and plays. It's a chilly day and the frost bites his fingers, but he plays through it all. He can't feel his hands afterwards, nearly catches a finger on the clasps of his guitar case.  
  
He lays a hand on the headstone, rests his head on top of it as the exhaustion of the work and the cold catches up with him.  
  
"Good night, sweet prince."


End file.
